


Allegiance

by alandthatiheardof



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: 3x01, Angst, Canon Compliant, F/M, Missing Scenes, spoilers for 3x01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 06:26:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8152276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alandthatiheardof/pseuds/alandthatiheardof
Summary: But why would he? Why would he want to kill Wes’s father? It doesn’t make any sense to her. She’s up then and out the door. She needs answers. She needs more details from Annalise, someone to explain what happened, why Frank would do this.His words come back to her then.  It wasn’t me.  For some reason, this time, she believes him.--Missing scenes from 3x01.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This may have already been slightly overtaken by canon from the CTV promo but it still has potential, and I really like how it came out, so I decided to go with it anyway. 
> 
> This is a series of scenes that take place in the timelines of 3x01 after Mahoney was shot until the promo for 3x02, just some theories on what I think could have happened off-screen over the summer.

 

Glancing around the room as she sits on the edge of his bed, Laurel takes a breath to calm herself. He’s not dead; there’s that. She was so sure, for just a moment, she was going to find his body in that bathroom. Her heart is still racing.

He’s gone. All of his clothes, his luggage, they’re gone with him. He left.

He left _her_.

He left _because_ of her. She did this. He told her something – something that makes her sick but, still, he trusted her. And as angry and upset as it made her, she didn’t want to betray that trust. She wouldn’t have if he had just told her it wasn’t Annalise, if he just told her the truth when she had actually asked, when she _wanted_ to know. She wanted a reason, needed to know that there was some sort of explanation so she could say he wasn’t like her father.

She shakes her head angrily. _No_. She cannot feel sorry about this, cannot justify his actions. He left, and that says a lot right there. _Good._ She’s glad he’s gone.

Despite her thoughts, she finds herself taking her phone from her pocket. She pulls up her favorite contacts and chooses his name. She can’t help herself.  

She actually doesn’t even know if he’ll answer. If he’s just left without a word, why would he?

But to her surprise after several rings, he does with a desperate, “Laurel.”

His voice sounds distant and weary, like he’s not really there. “Frank?”

“I didn’t do it,” he says quickly. His tone is controlled but Laurel can hear just under the surface that he’s far from okay. “It wasn’t me.”

“Frank,” she breathes out, “What are you talking about?”

“They’re going to say I did it. But she set me up,” he tells her, a quiet panic seeping into his voice. But she has no idea what is going on.

“Did what?” she asks, confusion clear. He’s not making any sense, and so she tries to take control of the conversation. “Frank,” she says sharply. “I’m at your apartment. Where are you?”

There’s a silence. She doesn’t know where it’s coming from at first but then she realizes what it is. He doesn’t trust her with that information.

“Where are you?” she repeats, a little more forceful this time.

“Have you talked to her?” he asks, and she tells herself that she shouldn’t be hurt by the question. He doesn’t have a reason to trust her after she put him in this situation.

“I haven’t talked to anyone. I called you as soon as I realized you had left.” She tells him, hoping the words are sinking in. When he still doesn’t answer, she continues, more emotion in her voice than she’d like. “Frank, please? I need to see you.”

That seems to work because she hears a soft sigh before, “I’m at a motel just out of town.” He pauses, and she’s sure he’s second guessing his words but then he continues. “I’ll text you the address.”

“Okay.” She nods even though he can’t see her and stands from the bed. “I’m on my way.”

“No.”

“What?”

 “You need to call Annalise first. Don’t let her know you’ve talked to me. If she finds out…”

“Frank, you’re not making any sense. Why do I need to call her? Why can’t I just come see you?” she pleads, not understanding why he thinks this is a good idea.

“She needs to know you’re on her side. If she thinks that you know where I am, that you’ve talked to me, it won’t be good for either of us. Trust me, Laurel. I know how she operates. Please, call her.” He takes a breath, and when he speaks against, his voice is softer, calmer. “After, I- I’ll be here. For a little while. I’ll wait.”

She hangs up then and sits back on the bed, taking a deep breath. She doesn’t know what to make of the call. She doesn’t understand what Frank is trying to say, for what he’s been set up, or why he’s cleaned out his apartment.

She’s worried about him.

Her phone buzzes with the address for some motel just outside of the city. Right under those three _I love yous_.

It stops her thinking, and she does what he said, calling Annalise and acting as though she hasn’t just talked to him.

That’s when she learns what happened. Without any pretense, Annalise tells her he shot Wallace Mahoney right in front of Wes, and she needs her at the house.

Laurel sits in shock for several moments. It can’t be true. Frank wouldn’t do this. _Yes, he would,_ comes a chastising voice in her brain. _He killed Lila_. And she told him about Mahoney.  

But why would he? Why would he want to kill Wes’s father? It doesn’t make any sense to her. She’s up then and out the door. She needs answers. She needs more details from Annalise, someone to explain what happened, why Frank would do this.

His words come back to her then.

 _It wasn’t me._  

For some reason, this time, she believes him.

 

\----

 

Laurel tries to take deep, calming breaths as she drives out of the city towards Frank. She’s just left Annalise, and part of her has a hard time not believing the story she puts forth, that Frank was responsible for her losing her baby years earlier and that it was Mahoney who bribed him for information, that Frank betrayed her.

Still, she doesn’t know why he's involved Wes in this revenge or why he would kill Mahoney in front of him. And, the more she thinks about it, the more she knows Frank is smarter than this. He has to know that killing Mahoney would do nothing to help his status with Annalise, and especially not if he did it in front of Wes.

Something’s not adding up.

She arrives at the motel, a shitty, run-down dump that already has her skin crawling. She goes to the room he specified and knocks lightly.

When he opens the door just enough for her to get in, she enters quickly and then turns to face him.

And that’s when she sees what he’s done. She can’t hide her shock. His hair, _his beard_. It’s all gone.

“Wha—What did you do?” she asks, almost pained by this transformation. She can’t deny that he’s not still attractive. Of course, he is. And she’s pretty sure she could still drown in his eyes. But this is not the Frank she knows. If he did this, he’s scared.

“I didn’t know what he was going to tell the police,” he says, by way of an explanation. “I needed to change and fast, so I wouldn’t be recognized.”

She understands his reasoning, really she does, but she hates this. She hates that she doesn’t understand what’s going on.

“What happened tonight, Frank?” she asks.

He guides her over to the bed, and she sits next to him, waiting silently for him to talk.

“Bonnie made me leave tonight, with the rest of you. Said that she would take care of it, tell Annalise why I—” he clears his throat. “Why I had to kill Lila.”

He glances away from her then, and she swallows because it’s still so painful to hear.

“Did it have to do with Annalise’s baby?” she asks, needing answers.

He looks at her, surprised. “Annalise told me how you bugged her room and how it led to the car accident,” she explains.

He just nods, slowly. “I told Sam that night… he was so upset, angry at me. I wanted to tell Annalise, I did. I wanted to go to the police. But he wouldn’t let me, said she couldn’t know because she wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

It clicks then for Laurel. “You killed her for Sam,” she states.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “I had to.”

There're so many questions she still wants to ask but she can’t because she can see the tears in his eyes, and it’s not why she’s here.

“Why did you take Wes to New York?” she asks instead.

“Annalise called me. She asked me to.” His voice is pleading, begging her to believe him.

She does. This time, she does.

“She said that she knew Wes would want to see Mahoney since he found out he was his father. And that we both knew the man was dangerous. She said she didn’t want him going on his own. He needed protection,” he tells her. “And I agreed because I thought maybe this was a start, I just do what she asks and maybe she’d be willing to listen, to give me another chance.”

Laurel nods as the pieces start to click into place. And then she starts to feel the pain in her chest. “This is all my fault,” she whispers at the realization.

“No, Laurel,” Frank tries to interrupt.

“If I hadn’t gotten drunk, hadn’t gone to see her, didn’t tell her, none of this would have happened.” She looks over at him. “I am so sorry. You’re here because of me.”

“No,” he repeats. “This is my fault, Laurel. I didn’t tell you the whole story. This is on me. Not you.”

His tone is sincere, definitive. And she wants to believe him. He’s right. But she can’t help feeling like this wouldn’t have happened to Frank _or to Wes_ if she had just kept her mouth shut.

“I saw the man that did it,” Frank says, bringing them back to the story. “And as soon as it happened, I just knew. I knew this was her plan all along. I panicked, I had to get out of there, so I did.”

“She said we couldn’t tell the others,” Laurel tells him. “When I saw her tonight, said it had to stay between me, her, Bonnie, and Wes.”

“She’s trying to take me down. She framed me, Laurel. And Wes already didn’t like me but…” he swallows, “I know how she operates. She’s trying to make sure whatever you and I may still have is ruined for good.”

“It’s not going to work,” she tells him, suddenly confident in that. She doesn’t even know what they still have but she’s not going to let Annalise have any say in it. She remembers then the words he spoke to her months ago, back when things were good between them, before Lila. She repeats them now, “We’re not going to let her come between us.”

He doesn’t look like he believes her, and he reaches over to the nightstand for a glass half-filled with bourbon and takes a drink. She wonders how much he’s had already. It comes to her then.

“I’ll let her think she has, though,” she announces, as she starts to formulate a plan. “I’ll make her think I’m on her side, try to get information, something that could help us.”

“Wes…” he starts, glancing at her hesitantly. “What if he tries to go to the police?”

“I won’t let him. And Annalise said they couldn’t go to the police anyway because it would come back on Wes. I didn’t understand her logic then but now I get why she said that.” She reaches out then and rests her hand on his forearm. “I’ll make sure that he’s okay, that he’s not going to crack… It’ll be okay.”

Frank looks down at her hand, and she’s sure he can feel the same spark she does. She still cares about him, despite telling herself that he’s not good for her, not a good man. She pulls back then.

“Laurel…” he starts softly. “I know—I know I have messed up but I swear I didn’t do this. I thought about it, sure, but I didn’t. And I just… I know you won’t believe me. That you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” she interrupts him quickly, shaking her head. “I should hate you. I.. _want_ to hate you. But I don’t and I can’t. And I just… if you had told me all of this before, when I asked—”

“I know. If I could take it back, not answer that phone, but I—I’ve never loved someone like this and I just—I thought I was going to lose you and it just came out and then, I… panicked. I didn’t think it through in advance. I didn’t know how to fix it.”

She shakes her head and breathes out slowly because this is too much. They have too much going on and she can’t deal with _this part_ right now.

“You need to leave,” she notes, ignoring his words, “get out of town, make sure she can’t find you… I’ll… I’ll see what I can do here. I’ll call you.”

Frank nods before taking a deep breath.

“We’ll figure this out, make it right,” she promises, hoping it’s true. She runs a hand through her hair, trying to ignore the stress and panic building up inside her.

“Okay,” he whispers, looking down at the glass in his hand. It’s then she notices how tired he is, not just from tonight, but the last couple of weeks. There are dark circles around his eyes, their blue color duller than usual. He looks as tired as she feels, and they aren’t going to be able to figure anything out when they are this tired.

“You need some sleep, though…” she announces. “I do too. So, let’s just rest?” she asks, softly. “And then tomorrow, we’ll get started.”

He stares at her for several moments before nodding. When he makes no move to do anything, she slowly stands from the bed and steps in front of him, between his legs. She keeps eye contact with him as she takes the now empty glass from his hand, laying it on the bedside table.

She then slides her hands under his leather jackets, slowly pushing it off his shoulders. She can feel her hands trembling as they run along his arms. She ignores that, ignores the million feelings inside her. Once off, she walks to the other side of the room to lay it over the chair. She slides of her own jacket as well, placing it on top of his, before turning back to face him. He’s still looking at her, unmoving as though she will run if he does. She holds his gaze and starts to take off her jeans, silently prompting him to follow her lead.

When he stands to do just that, she walks over and wraps her arms around him, hugging him tightly, giving him the comfort she can see he desperately needs. He needs to know he’s not alone, that he has someone, that he has her.

He seems to crack then, and returns the hug, squeezing her tightly. She can feel the tears falling onto her neck, where he’s buried his head.

“Let’s get some sleep, okay?” she asks, slowly pulling back after several minutes once he starts to calm.

She tries to give him a comforting smile before pulling away completely and walking around the bed. They climb in together as she tries not to think about how dirty the bed is in this shitty room.

Laying on their sides, facing each other, she studies him. She misses his hair, his beard, but she thinks this may be good too. This is a fresh start. They’ll figure it out, make it right with Annalise, and then maybe, just maybe, they’ll come out of the other side of this together, stronger.

 

\----

 

_He’s dead to me._

She thinks about those words as she lays out by the pool, letting the sun warm her. It’s clear Annalise doesn’t trust her, thinks she’s in touch with Frank. She doesn’t know what else she can do to prove herself so that Annalise will let her in.

“I brought you some water, too. Can’t have you getting dehydrated,” she hears a familiar voice above her and smiles before opening her eyes, watching him take a seat in the chair beside her as he lays the water down next to her cocktail.

The truth: Frank _is_ in Mexico; Annalise was right. It’s where Laurel told him to go, and he was waiting for her when she arrived. She needed somewhere that would make sense to Annalise, somewhere they could be protected, and she knew her mom would be with her grandmother all summer, so the house was unoccupied.

They need time together, time to come up with a plan. It’s looking more likely that Annalise isn’t going to let her in, no matter how much Laurel continues to do for her. And Wes… Well, he’s not talking much to her either. So they need to figure something out.

And Laurel could hear in every phone call how much he needs her, how much being on his own, on the run, is taking its toll on him.

They spend the summer talking through ideas. They spend the summer talking to each other. Frank tells her everything she wants to know, even the not so good parts of his past. She tells him, too, about what she went through with her father, how growing up in his house affected her.

They don’t come up with a plan. They don’t know what to do. Annalise clearly tried to frame Frank and that could really only mean that she wants him gone. Out of her life for good. She’s said as much to Laurel, too.

So, they ignore it. They ignore how quickly the summer is going; they ignore what that means.

But she can’t ignore it anymore. She has school starting in two weeks. She has to go back. Annalise will know for sure she’s with Frank if she doesn’t. And, really, she can’t stay here. Because, although Frank has told her everything, her brain is still telling her this is wrong. She’s wrong to love him.

“We have to figure out the plan,” she says one night as they’re lying in bed. It’s probably not the best time to bring this up. They just had sex; they’re both naked; and she knows, _she knows_ this will hurt him. She should wait until the morning. But she can’t.

“I have to go back in a week,” she continues, turning her head so that she can look at him. He looks wounded.

“I thought…” He trails off, glancing away from her in guilt, and she wants to be angry that he expected her to give up her life but she’s not because she’s thought about it too many times. Her head keeps telling her _no, you have to go back, you have to move on with your life,_ and reminds, _you can’t help Frank if you’re here._ Her heart says something different. It’s her heart that got her into bed with him tonight.

She shakes her head, clutching the sheet to her chest as she sits up to get a better look at him. “What am I supposed to do?” she asks. “What are you expecting me to do? Forget law school? Hide out with you on run for who knows how long?”

He looks away from her, pain clearly etched on his face. When she speaks again, her voice is softer. “I can’t do that. I can’t give up everything, my future, for something that… I don’t even know what this is.” She gestures between the two of them and he glances back at her. “I- You know how much I care about you. But I think I shouldn’t. I think I’m wrong to be here, to be with you.”

She watches as his eyes harden, the way his jaw clenches as he sits up too. “So that’s it? I’m on my own now?” He shrugs. “It’s fine, Laurel; I didn’t need you to babysit me.”

“That’s not what I’m doing and you know it,” she argues back, reaching for his hand. He pulls it away. “I still—I want to help you figure this out, Frank. I _am_ on your side in this. But I have to go back.” She reaches for his hand again; he lets her take it this time. She watches his eyes as they study their joined hands. “And when I go back, I can try to get answers from Annalise, make sure Wes doesn’t crack and end up saying the wrong thing to the wrong people. Protect you.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t have to do that. I’m not your responsibility.”

“I care about you,” she repeats, her voice pained.

“Yeah, well, you shouldn’t,” he spits out before looking away from her, pulling his hand away once more.

She takes a deep breath and looks up to stem the few tears gathering.  “Let’s—Let’s not think about this just yet. I shouldn’t have brought it up…” She shakes her head sadly. “I don’t have to go back for a couple of weeks, and so we have time together. We’ll figure out what we can do.”

It’s a false hope, and she thinks they both know it. She regrets bringing this up, though, regrets ruining what time they have left.

He stares at her for a long minute, and she can see how he wants to say something, can see how he’s holding back. Ultimately, he decides against the words on the tip of his tongue and shrugs. “Let’s just get some rest,” he tells her.

He lays down but as she goes to cuddle next to him, he rolls away from her, effectively cutting her off. She doesn’t know why she expects anything else. After all, she did just basically tell him that she’s made the wrong choice. She lays on her back, instead, staring up at the ceiling until sleep finally overtakes her.

When she wakes, the space next to her his cold and empty. It takes a few moments but as she’s pulled out of sleep, she notices other things around the room missing as well before seeing a piece of paper with Frank’s scrawl sitting on the nightstand. She picks it up with a sinking feeling. She already knows what it’s going to say.

_I can’t do this to you and I won’t hurt you anymore. I’m sorry._

She immediately calls him but he doesn’t answer. She knew he wouldn’t.

He left her. Again.

 

\----

 

She goes back to Philly shortly after. She calls every day, sometimes more than once; and, every day, he doesn’t answer. She’s worried about him. And she’s angry. She’s so angry because she was the only one on his side, wanting to help him, and he just left without a word.

She hates that she calls but she does, just in case he finally answers.

She throws herself back into school, tries to show Annalise nothing has changed and tries to get Wes to talk to her. Instead, he ignores her. And that hurts, too, because she thought they were friends. She has always been there for him, and she needs a friend now that Frank is gone. And she told Frank she’d keep an eye on Wes, make sure he doesn’t try to go to the police. That’s hard to do when he walks away from her every time he sees her.

Taking a deep breath as she sits in the car, she tells herself she needs to stop calling Frank. He obviously doesn’t care. Not anymore. And maybe that’s her fault for saying what she said but… No, she’s not going to let him off the hook. This isn’t fair of him.

She sighs and grabs her phone, going to her contacts and finding Frank. She pauses as she looks at his contact photo, thinks about how much she really does miss him, before hitting the green call button.

_It’s Frank. Leave a message._

She has to stop herself from thinking about his voice.

“Your mailbox isn’t full, so I know that means you’re checking your messages and not dead somewhere. I just wanted to say…”

What did she want to say? Why was she calling him? Why did she keep doing this to herself?

She lets out an audible sigh, and she hates how her voice softens, hates how she can’t say the three words she actually wants to say:

“I hate you.”

No. She doesn’t. Not at all. She rolls her eyes as she hangs up, throwing the phone aside.

_I love you._

 

\----

 

It’s shortly after she meets Meggy that she gets the call. Her mind has been racing. She’s hurt that Wes can only see Frank when he looks at her, hurt that Wes has ignored the friendship she has given him throughout the past year, hurt that he’s treating her this way. He’s supposed to be her friend, too. Her thoughts have been so muddled. She wants to help Frank but she wants to move on with her life because she doesn’t think she should be helping a man who in many ways is still like her father. She’s been alone because Wes has Meggy, and Frank is gone, and she has no one. Somehow, she’s all alone.

Seeing his picture, the one she can’t bring herself to change, appear on her phone snaps her out of those thoughts, and she quickly answers.

“Frank?” she asks before continuing on quickly. “Where have you been?”

There’s silence for a moment, and she can hear him breathing heavily. Immediately, she realizes something is wrong.

“Frank?” she asks again, her tone softer, pleading.

“Laurel,” he breathes and his voice sounds so broken. “I—I don’t know what…”

“Are you okay, Frank? Where are you?” she asks again.

“I killed him.”

Her heart stops. “What?” she breathes out.

“I—he… Annalise sent him. He’s the one, the one that shot Mahoney… And she—” He takes a ragged breath, and she can tell that he’s crying. “She sent him after me; he was at the hotel… I didn’t have a choice,” he finishes, his voice breaking as he gives words to what just happened.

Laurel takes a deep breath, taking it all in. She knows Annalise hates him but to actually send someone to kill him? Laurel didn’t see that coming.

“Are you okay, Frank? Did he hurt you?” she asks because she needs to know. She needs to know he’s capable of taking care of this.

“I’ll be fine,” he affirms. There a pause before she hears his voice once more. “I didn’t want to do it. But I saw him, and I knew—it would be me if I didn’t.”

Laurel closes her eyes, swallowing the lump in her throat and trying not to think about the fact that he could be dead right now.

“You did what you had to,” she tells him. She’s telling herself too. She has to remind herself that this doesn’t make him her father. He was protecting himself. She can’t hold this against him. “Can you take care of the body, Frank? Can you clean this up?”

“I—I don’t…”

“Frank,” she says sharply, trying to get his attention and pull him out of whatever shock he’s in. She needs him to be focused right now. So, she gives him instruction. He responds well to that. “You need to take care of the body. Get rid of the DNA on the body and at the hotel. And then get out. Get away from wherever you are,” she tells him.

“Laurel,” he tries to speak but she doesn’t let him.

Her voice is calm, collected. It needs to be right now. She needs to be in control for the both of them. “I’m going to try and get answers on my end, figure out what Annalise is up to… I’ll call you in a few days. Please answer when I do,” she finishes, taking a shaky breath before adding. “Be careful, Frank.”

“I shouldn’t have called you,” he says, his voice a little stronger.

“Yes, you should have,” she disagrees, “because I care about you.”

“Thought you hated me,” he throws back, clearly hurt.

“Of course I don’t,” she whispers, regretting that she ever said the words. She was just upset because he wasn’t answering, and Wes wasn’t talking to her, and she was frustrated and hurt and angry.

“No?” He doesn’t believe her. Why would he?

She tries to assure him anyway, speaking the truth, “No, not even when I try to.”

There’s silence then, and she hopes he truly hears her, hears what she’s telling him. They don’t have time to dwell on it, though. She clears her throat.

“Repeat the plan to me, Frank,” she tells him.

He does. “Destroy the DNA, dispose of the body, get out of town.”

“And be careful,” she reminds.

“And be careful,” he repeats back almost by rote before seeming to remember himself. “You too. If she finds out…”

“She won’t,” Laurel promises. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Okay,” he whispers. He still sounds dazed, and she hates leaving it like this. She wants to go to him, find him, and take them back to Mexico, take them back to this summer. But she can’t because Annalise is trying to kill him. She’s the only person he has. There’s no one else. Bonnie has pledged her allegiance to Annalise, and unlike Laurel, seemingly meant it.

Laurel is the one that has to find a way to save him.

She hangs up and takes a deep breath, trying to calm her own emotions as she looks around her apartment, wondering what’s next. She needs help. If Annalise sent one hitman after him, then she could easily send another. And next time, Frank won’t know what he looks like.

She knows what she needs to do, where she needs to go. But she’s not sure she has the strength, not sure she’s ready for what it means for her. She’s not sure that she’s ready to completely go against Annalise, against Wes. Everything is a mess. Her head is a mess, with a million different thoughts about what she should do, what she wants to do, and what the right thing to do actually is.

But her heart… her heart has known all along.

**Author's Note:**

> _I would really love to know what you think. Please take a moment to leave a note. :)_


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